Unemployed

My name is Human Right. I am currently unemployed.

Uninvited.

མགྲོན་འབོད་མེད་པར་།
སྐུ་མགྲོན་སླེབས་བྱུང་།
དབྱར་དཔྱིད་གཉིས་རྫོགས་པར་སྤྱད་དེ་།
ང་ཚོ་གྲང་ངར་གྱི་དགུན་ལ་སྦྱར་བྱུང།

ང་ཚོའི་ངལ་དུབ་ཀྱི་གོམ་བགྲོད་རེ་རེས།
གྲང་ལྷག་གིས་ཐལ་ལྕག་རེ་རེར་གདོང་ལེན་གྱིས།
ཡི་ཆད་ཀྱི་མཚན་མོ་མང་པོར་བརྒལ་ཏེ།
མཐའ་མར་ང་ཚོ་བཙན་བྱོལ་དུ་བསྐྱལ་བྱུང།

སེམས་ནང་རེ་མདུན་ཞིག་བཅངས་ཏེ།
རྒན་མོས་ནམ་ཡང་སྨོན་ལམ་འདེབས་ཅིང་།
དགོང་རེ་བཞིན་རྡོག་ཆས་སྒྲིག་སྟེ་།
ཕྱིར་ཕ་ཡུལ་དུ་ལོག་རྒྱུར་སྒུག་ནས་སྡོད་།

Guests came
Without invitation
Stayed whole spring and summer
And kicked us in the cruel winter

The cold wind slapped us
With every step we trudged to exile
Many lonely nights in despair
Finally took us to exile

The old woman prays everyday
In the hope of returning back to Tibet
Suitcase packed
Every time at the end of the day

no title

she turn her face against the mirror and close her eyes, she stands still and murmurs, when she lose her balance, she would do it again and try to hold herself as long as she could. opening her one eye, she would then pretend to be someone else.

Lost pair

From the Himalayas you flee barefoot
Day and night you weep quietly in sorrow
In fear of losing identity root
Everything left behind, inside hollow
You shrink day by day, grief planted gray hair
Eating inside, the invisible pain
When in silence you talk with the lost pair
Tin roof complain day and night in the rain
Up from the mountain, flowing through was blood
Destroying everything, blinded the sun
Genocide, murder, and rape follows flood
Corrupting human rights, speeding the run
This falsehood won’t last long to run kingdom
Poisoning the world in the name of freedom

Mending Goodness

Alienated loner clicking away
life in quiet desperation
surfing the internet
zoom soul into measuring the meaning of light
Life was slow but was in flow then,


now cybercrimes+ alienation= suicides

trust and respect flush in ?

time to re-re recycle your soul Corrupted soul has no way
to mend by medicines proven by scientists

better life gone in the midst of chaos

Rage

Handicapped black women begging in subway
“F*** you *” said the guy
wearing a hoodie to cover his skin color
which is not different than the women,
the rage in his eyes and the sadness in her eyes
tells the same story
but choosing different path
he came close to her and didn't look up in her eyes,
he said “why the f*** you are begging to these people?"
Jesus has never come to save our a**** and he won’t ever so,
stop being the weak ones
we are dead as a door nail to the world,
in their eyes we are thick as thieves we were born, raise,
and die as the *

Chaos

People rushing from subway Like
untamed animals
Blacks, whites and Browns.
Different tongues,
different size of people in the pursue of the same path
CONEY ISLAND Skyscrapers, shining towers, yellow cabs honking their lung out.

N,R,Q Whistles, noises, and chaos. POO-POO!

WRINKLES GATHERS IN WORRIES YET THEY ARE RUSHING TO THE UNENDING TUNNEL ROOSEVELT AVE. STEINWAY ST QUEENS PLAZA
Smells colognes Smells perfumes Cheap and expensive
Transfers, Music, Singing Signs, tourist Time ticking Bizzare

Hole

I looked upon her,
As she walked pass by Her eyes,
with the Weariness Following the steps,
she reached the door that is hollow but deep
she rang the bell, ting- ting Twice

No body answered She smelled from the hole
it is dark down there She shouted, Hey! Is anybody down there? Anybody?


Nothing came out except her echoing voice She closed her eyes in despair of emptiness she has encounter

i pressed my ear against the wall and


Banished

I hear

from the thin wall,

i hear my mother whipping.
before the sun rises, before birds chirps, before the milkman arrives, and before everyone stop dreaming.
she with her sorrowful eyes complains to the unseen force.

Home

I wake up, pray, eat, go to school,eat again, and sleep. wake up again, pray, eat, eat some more, and sleep.

sometimes, i try hard to sleep in sleepless night.
i do this every day, in the hope

of what?


my mother does the same thing except, she doesn't go to school, pray more than required. eat in silence.

she prays more, i mean, like every day, but in the hope of returning back Home? her real home whom she left behind 40 years ago. she buried all her memories behind the Himalayas, and
sometimes, she curse the wind that blows from the mountain.


she never call this place home.